


Huh.

by Alyss_Acerbi



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 03:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyss_Acerbi/pseuds/Alyss_Acerbi
Summary: Sometimes she hates it.She hates it when she looks at the picture reflected in the mirror.





	1. hates it

**Author's Note:**

> She's my favourite character and she honestly deserves better. I just wanted to explore her character even more; letting her be a teenager and get some time to think. Also;not very shippy but i just rly wanted to explore their relationship.  
Warning; there's some pretty heavy thoughts, a lot of self deprecation, implications of self harm AND descriptions of self harm - she'll learn to heal and get help but these are present. If this is NOT for you, please take care. 
> 
> There is always another day - everything passes and it's ok to feel things. If you suffer from harmful tendencies or even any mental health issues please seek help.

Sometimes she hates it.

Sometimes, she hates it when she looks at the picture reflected in the mirror. Deep-seated insecurities surface when her mind is clear; free of responsibilities and lists of duties to attend to, position to uphold or souls to reap.

She sees all of the imperfections, all the flaws and the things she lacked, all the things she did not have. Things she didn’t have, things she doesn’t have, things she doesn’t think she’ll ever have.   
Her partner’s out tonight. “Bro Night,” Star told her one day. Every week (if possible) he’ll invite (demand) Soul to come over his place to hang. 

She’s alone tonight. Typically, she rejoices; cherishes the alone time and the prospects of doing things she wants to do without anyone looking in. Typically, she’d read until her heart’s content or she’d catch up on cheesy shows, or even get an early start on the upcoming topics for school. How productive.

How. 

Productive.

They’d laugh at her, try to drag her out huffing and puffing, try to get her out of her ‘shell’. A part of her appreciates it and don’t get her wrong. She loves her friends – absolutely adores them; she’d die for them (she did), she’d risk anything for them (she has).   
She knows they’d do the same for her.

But.

Another part of her is sick – makes her feel like puking, like standing under a hot hot hot shower, like scrubbing and washing until her skin’s raw, until she’s shed her skin and she’s someone new. 

Someone better.

Smarter.

Less stubborn.

Gentler.

More capable.

Better looking.

Stronger.

Stronger. 

Stronger.

S-

Tonight, she looks into the mirror feeling numb but so fucking hot inside – feels buzzing clouding her mind and she can’t breathe. She has half a mind to think it madness; someone’s trying to fuck all this up again (oh Death, not again nononononono-) but she knows better. It’s just her. Maybe getting the full-body mirror was a bad idea.

Her eyes slowly drift to the penholder on her desk. She eyes a bright red marker resting neatly in her pink and yellow penholder. 

Permanent Marker

The marker’s in her hand before she could even process her decision to grab it. She looks into the mirror, feeling her fingers un-cap the marker.   
Slowly she raises her hand to the mirror, she writes,

Not Good Enough

“Not good enough,” she repeats.

Again.

Plain.

“Plain,”.

Again.

Nerd.

“NERD,”.

UNTALENTED.

UNSKILLED.

WASTE.

NOT PRETTY.

FLAT CHESTED.

WEAK.

STUPID.

PETTY.

JEALOUS.

Until she couldn’t even see her own reflection in the mirror again. 

Tears. 

“Help,” she says, before the sobs come full force.


	2. burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it continues!

She cries, and cries, and cries.

She feels her breath break at each sob. The tight clenching of her insides felt unbearable; feeling like a thousand cruel hands ripping her from the inside out. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathecan’tbreathe.

Through her sobbing, she barely hears the front door unlock. ‘Soul's home’, she thinks. Maka glances to her side, her digital clock reading 2:00 a.m. ‘How long have I been here?’, she wonders, sucking in a shaky breath trying to cease her errant sobbing. No one knows this side of her, even Soul; a part of her feels guilt eating her up from the inside at this. She shouldn’t be keeping this from her partner, the person she trusts the most.

Feeling her breathing slowly evening out, she weakly stands up from her crumpled position from the ground (don’t even ask her how she got there, it just happens). Hearing the light footsteps coming from the living room, Maka rushes to switch off her lights and hide under the covers. The footsteps get louder as she hears Soul coming towards her room. Soft knocking echoes through the quiet room before she hears him call out her name softly. “Maka?”, he inquires softly, checking whether or not his meister has fallen asleep. 

Maka tries to calm her pounding heart, as she keeps quiet, pretending to be asleep. A silent second passes by before she hears the turning click of her doorknob. ‘I should’ve locked the door,’ she chastised to herself. ‘I didn’t have time to clean the mirror’. Her heart’s suddenly in knots, up at her throat, clenching in panic. Death, what if Soul sees the shit she’s been doing what if he sees what I did to the mirror nononononononono-

“Maka?” she hears again, voice clearer this time without the barrier of her wooden door separating them. She knows he’s peeking his head in to check on her. She’s torn; she loves him to death, deeply appreciates him for all the small things he does. Like checking up on her every now and then. A part of her though, is terrified at the very real possibility of him noticing her messy, imperfect, sad scrawls on the mirror.

She keeps quiet.

Quiet, tense seconds pass by before her partner deems her asleep and softly closes the door behind him as he leaves. Maka breathes a quiet, relieved breath.  
Peeking from under the covers, Maka let’s her eyes dizzily adjust to the dark; the only light streaming from outside her windows and glowing from the red digits of her clock. Her eyes follow the streams of light; past the window, to the table, over the floors, hauntingly reflecting from the mirro-

The mirror.

Green eyes locked. 

They scan the dimly lit words – but from here, from where she lies prone, weakly on her bed they glow bright red, scorches her eyes and eats up at her.

Before the bile scorches up her throat, the tell-tale prickling of tears in her eyes snaps her out of it. She turns the other way, facing the wall – motion triggering unshed tears to fall.

That night she sleeps with her pillow damp, and her heart at her throat.

Tomorrow is another day.

\--------

She gets up when the sun rises. “I have to do this, I have to be useful, I have to be productive,” Maka tells herself every day after she questions herself WHY. I want to sleep- NO. I want to rest – NO. I want – NO.

As she walks briskly past her desk, green eyes dart towards the clock. It’s early; Maka knows Soul won’t be up for at least another 3 hours, it’s a Saturday too. Great, she’ll have plenty of time to get everything together (to get herself together to pretend she’s ok); clean up that wretched mirror, shower, cook breakfast, maybe some time to spare to read a book too.  
She does just that. 

Mirror cleaned (she doesn’t look at the words). Bed tidied (her pillow is dry now). 

‘I wonder what people will think of me,’ she thinks as she preps herself for the shower, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. ‘What will they think of me if they ever find out I’m not okay? Will they help? Will they laugh? Will they cry?’, she pauses as her hands turn the shower handle. ‘Will they just stare?’ 

That sends her spiralling. Does she mean anything? She’s just a normal girl, trying her hardest (not hard enough). ‘I saved the world,’ she thinks. A lot of people did. ‘You aren’t special; all your friends, classmates, teachers, colleagues did their part (more than her),’ she muses. Did it mean nothing when she risked her life for the greater good, when she spent her life to achieve something someone like her probably shouldn’t be able to? (She was too young). Death, how old is she now, how long has it been since the incident. “6 years,” the meister mutters to herself, her eyes unfocused, lost. She was 13 when everything fell apart and put itself back together again (she isn’t put back together). A part of her knows that logically, she should seek help – that this isn’t normal. Wanting to hurt yourself, wanting everything to stop and having nightmares every night of her life – this shouldn’t be a thing. ‘But everyone else didn’t have to seek help,’ she tells herself. For 6 years, she fought with herself; stubbornly refusing to seek any help, refusing to yield to the weaker side of her. Weak…. WEAK. WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAK WEAKweakweakweak-

The burning tingles on her hand snaps her out of it. 

Ah.  
Right.

Time to shower.


	3. dairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> huh??????????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a lil bit more lighthearted as we explore a bit of Soul's perspective on this! It's kinda short though sorry!

After sufficiently rubbing her skin raw under the scalding hot water of her shower, she deems herself clean enough to be done. She goes through the motions; turn shower off, step out, dry, brush teeth, get dressed, dry hair, brush hair, prepare breakfast.

Open a book.

Read the book.

Enjoy the book.

Fail to enjoy the book.

Try again.

Nope.

She stares.

Maka’s been reading the same line for the past hour. She’s only snapped out of it once the click of Soul’s bedroom door from down the hall echoes through the apartment. Her eyes focus once more, and looks at the ticking clock hanging above the tv.

Ah

It’s near midday. 

No wonder.

“Morning,” Soul drawls.  
She hears him shuffle behind her from the sofa. “I made breakfast,” she replies.  
“Cool.”

The apartment’s quiet again; only the sound of Soul bustling around the kitchen breaking through the silence. Neither of them are really the chatty type; especially around each other – they know how to enjoy each other’s company. This one isn’t unusual, but somehow a little bit off – she knows why, but she’s too stubborn to stop her façade. She knew deep down, despite her hardest efforts to repress her emotions, Soul would always find a way to get it out of her. They’ve been through so much together, they know each other – but she doesn’t stop. Maybe if she keeps trying he’ll just chalk it up to her being in a Mood.

“The gang wants to hang out today; apparently there’s a new café opening up in town. Figured we could check it out then head back to Kid’s place,” Soul starts. “You down?”

That sounds like something she could handle today, so she answers with an affirmative.

“Cool, we’re leaving in 30.” 

\-----

Soul takes a second to study the situation; something’s wrong. He squints at the oddly still figure of his meister across in the living room. She’s oddly quiet today; more so than usual. Well. Actually, she’s been pretty off for a while but this was just another level of off.   
He squints for a couple more seconds.

What is she doing?

It looks like she’s reading but from the angle of her head, it seems more like she’s staring off into space. Yeah, something’s definitely going on.

With a sigh, Soul puts down his half empty mug of coffee. The clatter of the coffee mug disturbs the strangely off kilter silence that deemed itself guest of the day in their apartment. With one more suspicious glance at her, he shuffles to the refrigerator, making as much noise with his feet as possible. 

Finally reaching the fridge, he chances another glance at her. She hasn’t moved.

His brows furrow.

Keeping his eyes on her, he obnoxiously shuffles his feet on the floor – fuck it, adding a few loud jumps here and there. He’s being obnoxious at this point.

Maka’s still as a fucking rock.

He huffs, shoulder slumping. Without taking his eyes off her, Soul roughly wrenches the fridge door open. The clatter of juice boxes against glass jars rattle loudly.  
Nothing.

He shoves his arm in, reaching for the carton of milk. Without hesitation he loudly gulps down the milk. 

Straight.

From.

The.

Carton.

His meister shifts.

He continues drinking.

She stands from the sofa, and turns to him.

He drinks some more. (There’re streams of milk just running down the sides of his mouth at this point.)

Eye contact.

Bingo.

She just smiles at him and walks to her room.

What.

The.

Fuck?

He’s so in shock he doesn’t even notice the onslaught of dairy just pouring from his gaping mouth. Did his meister really just see him chug milk straight from the carton without telling him off? Did she   
really just SMILE at him? She HATES it when he does this.

What the fuck?


	4. small ray of light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 relatively light-hearted chapters back to back? suspicious  
:)

She feels the door close more than she hears it. Leaning her back on the door, she sighs heavily. ‘Get your shit together, Maka,” she huffs. That was a close one – she let herself slip right in front of her partner. The blonde forces the burning darkness to the back of her mind once more, swallows the phantom pain she feels trying to claw up her throat. 

Today’s a good day. Today’s a good day.

She’ll make today a good day if it’s the last thing she does.

Maka takes a second to compose herself and shuts her eyes; she can feel the threads of her tightly wound soul slowly coming apart. The nasty voice in her head shout at her: You’re breaking you’re breaking you’re breaking. It gets louder by the second; it drowns her. Her chest feels tight – it’s like she’s not breathing.

_Oh._

She isn’t breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She peels her heavy eyes open. Her vision swims, and all she can see is static. Maka tries to regulate her breathing; in out in out in out. 1 2 3 4 56789-

Her vision slowly clears. Death – she feels exhausted already, and the day has barely begun. Maka throws her head back against the door, a soft thump ring in her ears. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the days go by; she wonders if she’s able to keep this up. No. She HAS to keep this up – Maka has no choice, fight or die fight or die fight or die.

Honestly dying doesn’t sound too bad right now.

Sighing once more, she pushes off from the door, carrying her heavy lead body towards her dresser. There’s no time for idle thoughts, she needs to get ready. Put on the mask once again and fight through the day.

That’s all she’s even remotely good at anyways; fighting and learning.

(she’s not even that good at it.)

If only everyone else could see how pathetic she really is (they probably do). Their pitying gazes feel like weights on her shoulders. Her eyes drift up; green meets green. There she was in front of the mirror again.

Sometimes she hates it.

Sometimes she hates the shit that’s reflected right in front of her.

It’s ugly.

Inhale, 1 2 3 4 5 6 

Exhale, 7 8 9 

10

Time to get dressed.

While rummaging through her closet, her mind wanders. Would people be surprised if they knew how crass and downright cruel, she is to herself. Would they even care?

She settles for casual.

Soft sweater and a pair of leggings it is.

She puts her ensemble on and once again faced with her reflection staring back at her. She decides to let her hair down today; no pigtails for once. Maka can’t help but feel that if she does turn up in her  
usual get up, her friends might tease her for it. It’s not bad, really. She knows they don’t really care.

But sometimes the words feel heavy. Sometimes, she hears them as:

_“You’re so boring and weird. Don’t you have better things to wear?”_

Even though that’s not what they said, even though that’s not what they meant.

But sometimes it feels like it.

It feels like anything she does warrants some kind of tease or insult thrown towards her. It feels like nothing she ever does is right or ‘cool’. When Maka was younger, she’d try hard to fit in; she’d try hard to impress (even though she knows that they’re aware she’s trying hard). Eventually she stopped though, the years go by and her age makes her feel more confident in the things she’s actually interested in. More self-assured, and she feels like this most of the time – but there are days when the demon called ‘deep seated insecurities’ whispers broken words in her ears.

She wonders if she’s ever had days without it. It feels like her normal thoughts aren’t in control anymore.

She wonders if she’s starting to lose herself.

Maka applies a light layer of lip tint on her lips, and leaves the room. A part of her hopes the bad thoughts stay back – but that’s just wishful thinking. It always follows.

“Hey Soul, you ready?”

“Yeah, give me a sec!”

Maka lets out an amused huff, her partner’s always taking his own sweet time when it comes to his hair.

“Give your hair a rest!” she calls back. “No amount of hair gel’s gonna make it any pointier!”

“Oh, hush, you!”

Maka laughs. She feels her spirit lifting already, no matter how little. She forgets how much she actually likes her dynamic with her partner – it took years to cultivate and grow, she hopes it stays to be one of the better things in her life.

Snatching her small purse off a shelf and shoving it into the sewn in pocket of the sweater - courtesy of Tsubaki herself, bless her - she plops herself down on the arm of her living room sofa. Vibrations buzzed against her clothed skin, a muffled ding! notifying her of a text message. She glances down at her phone after quickly reaching for it and swiping it on. Upon seeing the text message, Maka could not help the small smile that's forming on her face.

** _KIDDO_ **

** _Hello, Maka. I know for a fact the others will likely unleash absolute hell once we settle down in my house later this evening. Which is why I brought it upon myself to fetch you that new book you’ve been wanting so much to read.  
….  
I got myself a copy too of course.  
….  
Would you like to join me in reading them later?_ **

Ah. 

Kid.

Her smile widens.

Kid’s always been a rather strange person; from the first time she met him – but that’s to expect from anyone from this side of the world (read: Death City). He struck her as such an interesting, albeit overwhelming, character. Over the years of knowing him, Maka and Kid have developed a very solid friendship. 

Honestly speaking, she’d consider him her closest friend right after Soul.

Out of everyone in their strange group of friends, Kid and Maka have always shared very similar interests, they valued the same things, and just generally ‘vibed’.

What was it that Star and Patty kept saying recently?

Ah.

Kid passed her vibe check.

** _Maka_ **

** _Of course! I’d love to do that with you. I’m not exactly in the right mood to go through with anything Star and Patty might conceive today tbh,_ **

** _KIDDO_ **

** _Great. See you later_ **

** _Maka_ **

** _See ya_ **

Looks like things aren’t going to be so bad today.


	5. i can't believe this cafe isn't playing highschool musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid and Maka friendship moments. Soul worries about his meister some more. Patty threatens cafe owners into playing highschool musical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea i ship KiMa but their relationship here is p much platonic (maybe not so much on Kid's side OOP)

It was one of those hip and retro style cafés; interior décor looking intentionally threadbare – smooth, stripped walls, dark wooden tables, brass and bronze metal accents on everything, those cool bare bulb lamps. Heck, they even have a vintage record player – yeah, it’s one of those cafés. The food and drinks are frustratingly overpriced but they do taste good.

The moment the group stepped into the establishment Maka knew right away that this was right up Soul’s alley. If not from pure experience, then from the way his normally tired eyes lit up and the way the ends up his mouths tipped to one of those frustratingly handsome smirks.

Right now, seated at a long table large enough to fit seven misfit individuals, Maka feels herself rather content to just watch and listen to her friends talk (yell?).

Soul, seated next to her, in a heated debate with Liz, Patty and Star over the café’s choice of music.

“It’s not bad, definitely up my alley but still – “

“Still too mainstream – yeah we get it, Evans.”

“Rude, I was about to say _basic_.”

“Same difference, dude.”

“**I’m gonna threaten them to play Highschool Musical**.”

“Patty, no.”

“**Patty, yes**.”

“Patty, you get the knife, I’ll get the barista.”

“**Star**.”

“No can do, bro – Sharpay Evans deserves to be known.”

It’s honestly a mess. Everyone knows there’s really no point in trying to stop them. 

It’s great.

She hears Kid, seated across from her, heave out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ll have to send the establishment an apology letter and consolation gifts,” he sighs out, then looking to Maka. “Remind me to do that, will you?”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll put it in your schedule.”

Maka sees the corner of Kid’s mouth quirk up, amused.

“I’m surprised you’re able to take a day off from your Death God gig,” Soul chimes in. “You’re usually so busy.”

Kid huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back on his chair. “I’m surprised too, but I’ve come to learn it’s not so bad to take some time off – I don’t exactly fancy being driven to madness by work.”

Soul snorts. “How wise of you.”

“I’ve had over 6 years to learn,” Kid retorts. “And I’ll have **_many_** more to go, I think I deserve some rest.”

“You ever think you’ll adopt your dad’s funky ‘tude overtime?”

The Death God chuckles at that, amused but a bit melancholic.

“Who knows.”

His gaze shifts to her once again.

“Plus, I’ve got a great assistant to help me out.”

Maka huffs at that.

“You just want me to deal with the paperwork for you.”

Liz snorts, leaning back against her chair. “Death knows the _both_ of you need to learn to take a break once in a while,” she quipped.

Maka hears her partner grumble at that; she turns to him, eyebrows quirked. She knows this is a point of contention between them – he thinks she works too much; she thinks she works too little; they’ve had heated arguments about it in the past for sure, but right now it lost its heat. 

She props an elbow on the table and leans her chin onto her hand, rolling her eyes. “Don’t mention it in front of that one, Liz. We’ve had enough of this conversation in the past.”  
Liz laughs at that. Soul splutters, mock offended he turns to his partner.

“_Excuse me?_,” he starts. “For good reason, dude.”

Maka’s expression softens at that. He’s always looking out for her (even though sometimes she wishes he didn’t have to all the time).

She shrugs.

“Yeah it’s not like I don’t give you shit about not exhausting yourself on training with Kid.”

At this he looks pointedly at Liz; face screaming, _ See? Pot meet kettle._

They hear the music abruptly change to Sharpay and Ryan’s ‘I Want It All’.

They all sigh.

Good choice though.

Maka let’s herself smile. Today’s not so bad.

-

Leaving the café was an event on its own, as was anything that had to do with their rowdy bunch. A good time, a good day (so far) has left Maka rather drained – but in the good way. The insistent buzzing of her anxieties just a mere, barely noticeable pulsing in the back of her mind. The sinking feeling that everything was going to go wrong staved off for the day. Maka feels lighter than usual, a spring in her step, a softer kind of edge to her vibe. All in all, it’s good.

They’ve made it back to Kid’s mansion. 

She prays to every existing deity overseeing this God forsaken world that it wouldn’t be ruined; just let her have this just let her have this just left her have this-

“Maka?”

Kids soft call snapped her back to reality.

She looks at him, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, head in the clouds.”

He smiles softly. He does that a lot to her.

“Figured,” he chuckles. His eyes glance towards his right, past the floor to ceiling windows to the pool where their friends staked camp in for now. “While they concoct whatever shenanigans they’re about to pull tonight, would you like to come read the book now?”

“Sounds great.”

“Come this way then,” he gestures towards the dual staircases leading up to the second floor, his other arm a friendly weight on her back. “We’ll read in my room if you don’t mind. I quite want to relax on the balcony.”

Maka’s been in his house enough to be comfortable in his bedroom; sometimes she needed to help him work in the office connected to the master. Or even the occasional reading session; mostly in his library and reading room but sometimes on the balcony of his bedroom. It was spacious enough to fit some chairs and a table with room to spare.

“Give me second to let Soul know,” she says. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you up there.”

It’s not really anything. It just became a habit for Maka and Soul to let each other know about anything – it started out as a way to cope with their anxieties about each other’s well being during trying times; times where they were afraid to be apart from each other, times where everything were falling apart around them, times when being alive was a question every day.

Now it was second nature. Subconscious, but very much appreciated.

It made them both feel secure.

It wasn’t co-dependency she thinks, they trust each other enough that they’ll be able to take care of themselves and make adult decisions on their own; sometimes it was just nice to know.  
Kid nods, “Alright.”

Making her way towards the pool, she sees her friends lounging about the pool. She spots her partner reclined on a pool chair, eyes closed, earphones in. She can hear the swing jazz play faintly from his earphones the closer she gets to him.

Maka pokes him in the side with her knee. He jolts, grumbling at her.

“Yeah?”

“Gonna be on Kid’s balcony reading with him.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

“Aite, have fun reading, nerd.”

She turns to make her way back in.

“Let me know if u need anything,” Soul calls out casually.

“Got it!” She calls back.

She doesn’t notice Soul’s worried gaze on her back.

-

Soul watches her as she makes her way back into the main house. He sighs. He knows something is wrong – and he’s had time to think about it today; he knows something has been wrong for a while now. She’s just that good at hiding it.

But everyone reaches their limits eventually.

Even Maka.

He wants to talk to her about it but he’s conflicted. A part of him wants to give her space, let her come to him and another part wants to confront her directly, and Soul’s slowly leaning towards the latter. Boy does he know his meister will do anything in her power to not “bother” anyone.

Between the two of them, they have little to no secrets. They’ve made it clear years ago that they should be honest; whatever it is, the other should know. No lying, no secrets because they trust each other and they want this to work in the long haul – for however long they can.

Of course, there are some things that they don’t talk to each other about; mostly because the other might not really be suitable to talk to about it, but they’re never really that deep.  
This time though.

Something’s really wrong.

His sigh goes unnoticed by everyone else but Tsubaki. He sees her approach his chair, sitting on the one next to his. 

“Is something wrong, Soul?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again; taking a moment to consider. _Should I let the others know about it_ he thinks to himself.

A part of him tells him this is bigger than them.

They should know.

He heaves a heavy sigh, runs his hand through his hair and looks at the other.

“Yeah,” he starts. “Yeah, something’s wrong and I’m worried.”

Tsubaki tilts her head in question.

Soul sits up, putting his earphones and phone aside. Turning to Tsubaki to give her his full attention he says, “It’s Maka. Something’s going on with her and it’s eating her up.”

Her face softens in understanding. Nodding, she turns to him fully as well. “I figured,” she pauses for a second to think. “I’ve noticed something was going on as well – I just didn’t know if it was anything to really be worried about.”

“It’s definitely something, Tsubaki.”

Soul thinks back to this morning; Maka oddly quiet, Maka not reading, her eyes unfocused, in a daze, smiling at him when he drank the milk straight out of the carton. He doesn’t know what to do.  
He’s so worried about her; he worries about her all the time dammit. This isn’t something he can physically protect her from, he couldn’t physically fight it – he knows that whatever was happening, it’s eating her up from the inside and it pains him to see. _Death, why didn’t he see this from the beginning why only now? Why didn’t he notice earlier? Of COURSE, something is wrong – it’s so clear to see now_.

He buries his hands in his hair, looking down.

“I don’t know what to do,” he chokes. “I should’ve noticed earlier.”

Tsubaki’s hand lands gently but firmly on his shoulder; the warm, gentle weight of her hand grounding him.

“Soul, calm down,” she states firmly. “We don’t know exactly what’s going on yet but now at least we know that something needs to be done. The best thing we can do right now is to look out for her and be present.”

He heaves a sigh (sob? Sigh?) and nods.

Tsubaki continues, “We need to find out specifics, and help her through whatever is going on. But this takes time and patience, okay? I’m sure you understand; Maka is a wonderful person but she finds it hard to accept help – especially from people she cares about.”

He nods again, not sure if he can even speak past the ache in his throat.

“Talk to her, Soul. That’s the first step.”

First step.

Alright.

One step at a time.


	6. oh no.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's alright, but then it gets much much worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone the feedback! ; u ; i'm always so happy to see your responses and i rly appreciate your support. PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAIN GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SELF HARM/ VIOLENT THOUGHTS AND SUCH. If you are negatively affected by this please do not continue with this chapter or this fic at all actually; but i'll put a trigger warning in each chapter that actively has such content. If this is not for you, please take care and go ahead and read other great content out there!

Reading has always played an incredibly major role in her life – her every day. The feel of almost smooth papers across the pads of her fingers, the anchoring weight of the book in her hands, the distinct smell of _books_; just everything about it, she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel complete without it. The feeling of opening up a new book is always an exciting one, to open up the pages and finally glance upon the text, not knowing what will happen, how will it happen or how long it would take to finish it. 

It’s so exciting.

That’s how Maka found herself the moment she sat down and opened up the book Kid had bought her. Her failed attempts at reading earlier that morning a far memory in her mind; she’s where she’s meant to be now. She’s absorbed, and she can tell Kid is too; it’s quiet between them but comfortable. They’re seated on comfortable chairs on Kid’s personal balcony; the warm rays of sun splaying across their skin and literature, lulling them into comfortable warmth as they read. The sounds from the outside, and the distant cheers of their friends from the pool only a muffled white noise to the two meisters.

It stayed like that for a while, until the sound of Kid’s work phone ringing broke the quiet moment. She felt herself pull back from the texts of her book, the ringing loud in their ears. Maka looks up from her book, noticing the sun going down, painting the sky in beautiful warm hues. 

_ Has it been that long?_ she thinks to herself. Checking the time on her phone, she confirmed her suspicions. They’ve been reading for hours, undisturbed.

The ringing persists.

She looks over to Kid. “Are you gonna pick that up?” she asks. “It’s coming from your work phone; it should be important.”

“I was about to.”

Kid gets up from his seat, placing the heavy book down neatly on the small coffee table between their two chairs. Maka watches him as he walks back inside his room presumably to look for his phone.

He finds it quick from the sudden pause of the ringing. She sees him walk back to the balcony, resuming his seat next to her.

He answers the phone; curt and professional.

Maka leans back against the chair, not resuming her read, choosing instead to casually listen in to what she can hear of the conversation. She knows Kid wouldn’t mind, doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have walked back to his seat next to her if he did. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty much his active assistant anyways; this role almost instantly placed on her the moment he took after his late father.

She didn’t mind, it gave her something to do when she’s not off doing missions with Soul. 

At first Kid insisted he could take after his father’s role immediately on his own, and the rest let him; albeit with worried sentiments. He seemed alright for a while – that was, until Maka woke up to a desperate call at 3 a.m. in the morning; a frazzled Kid damn near hysterics on the other end of the line.

From that point on she started helping him with whatever she could.

It also snowballed into him finally accepting help from the others, but Maka pretty much held the front beside Kid himself; usually dealing with paperwork and logistics. She laughed at the memory, recalling the time Liz had thanked her for helping her meister out.

_”Honestly Maka, it’s a goddamn gift that you’re helping him out,” Liz sighed. “He was going crazy! I wanted to help but I didn’t know what the hell was going on, or what anyone was supposed to do so I wasn’t much help at all in the end. He would’ve worked himself to madness.”_

In her reminiscing, Maka picks up bits and pieces of the conversation. _Something about a meeting?_

“Alright,” she hears Kid say. “We’ll see to that immediately, thank you.” He hangs up the phone and sighs.

He looks to her and runs a hand through his hair, tired. 

“What’s up?” she asks.

“It’s from our east coast branch,” he starts. “The one in New York City. They called regarding suspicious activities along the east coast area; something about potential rogue witches wanting to recreate new kishins and such.”

Maka grimaces at that. Their relationship with the witches after The Kishin Uprising 6 years ago, while rocky, is already civil enough, and efforts towards bettering the relationship between death workers and witches are always pursued. However, with every two steps forward, there must be a step back; rogue witches and even death workers have popped up here and there. Mostly in disagreement with the current treaty; too deluded in their outdated ways.

“Yikes,” Maka replied. “I suppose we’re due for a meeting with the east coast branch?”

Kid nods at that. “As soon as possible - tomorrow, actually.”

She’s already keying the reminders in her phone as he speaks, her book no longer on her lap now resting on the coffee table along with Kid’s. She pockets her phone before getting up, patting her wrinkled sweater down. 

She nods her head towards the inside of his house, “We should let the others know. Shall we?”

He’s already standing as she says this. “Let’s.”

They make their way back inside, and downstairs towards where they presumed the others are milling about. It doesn’t seem like they’re playing in the pool anymore so the two meisters make their way into the large open kitchen.

Upon entering, the two spots their friends loitered around the large kitchen island in the centre of the kitchen. All of them snacking and sipping drinks as they converse amongst each other. The sound of Maka and Kid’s arrival notify the group of their arrival, their heads turn towards Maka.

“Hey guys,” she greets. Maka automatically makes her way towards Soul, settling down on the barstool next to his.

“Yo.” He greets back. “Was about to bring some snacks up to you. Figured the both of you nerds got too wrapped up in your reading.”

She punches his arm softly.

“Shut up.”

“I wasn’t wrong.” He shrugs, and slides a cool glass of iced tea towards her.

Kid clears his throat.

“East coast called,” he mentions. “Rogue witches and suspicious activity along their territory. Meeting tomorrow, 10 am, Death Room. I need all of you there.”

Affirmatives echo around the group.

“Could it be another mission?” Soul asks.

Kid sighs. “Possibly, if it gets bad enough. If it does come to that, I will need to send most you over there – I may need to come as well depending on the situation.” He looks at Soul, “I doubt I’ll need to wield you, Soul – the usual groupings are far better equipped and more than enough.”

“Got it, Boss.” Soul smirks at that.

Kid’s eye roll is deliberately slow and dramatic. This makes Maka smile, it’s cute how much more casual he is around them after 6 years.

Their conversation is interrupted by Star’s loud suggestion, “God enough with the boring shit.” He rolls his eyes. “Can we have movie night? It’s been too long, and I can _feel_ us becoming bored old hags – except me because I’m gorgeous and un-aging, duh.”

He gets a chip in the face for that, courtesy of Liz. “You better shut your mouth, dipshit. We’re in our early twenties not senile.”

“Between you, Kid and Maka, could’ve fooled me.”

It’s an orange peel in the face this time.

Courtesy of Tsubaki.

“Star, don’t say that!” she admonishes.

While her friends bicker and yell, Maka’s once again left in her thoughts.

She’s been around Black Star long enough to not let his words get to her – most of the times. Sometimes they just hit too close to home, but Maka has learned to shrug it off for the most part. She sighs internally, he has a point though. Sometimes it feels like she’s thrice her age – the bone deep tiredness that comes with age, the feeling that time is slipping through your fingers. But this isn’t just her, is it? They’ve all aged too fast, but not enough that it really settles properly. It’s jagged at the edges, doesn’t sit quite right with them.

It’s funny though, Maka reminisces. How much of their youth they’ve spent away; young, young kids forced to grow up too soon.

She looks around the room. They didn’t turn out so bad though.

_Except me_.

-

The moment the movie started, Maka did not pay attention; couldn’t bring herself out of her thoughts. Her eyes are trained on the screen but the footage fail to register in her mind. But she notices her surroundings enough to see her friends and her littered around the large couch and the floor.

What a childish thing to do; movie nights and sleepovers.

She doesn’t particularly care. It’s nice to be childish during the tiny in-betweens of their very adult, all consuming life. They were all adults (_young, but adults_), desperately grasping at whatever chance they have to maintain their childhood.

They didn’t really have a childhood.

It feels like a foreign concept; something mythical. So, yeah, they didn’t have one – not when your childhood consisted of too much blood, not when they were, are, child soldiers sent into the maws of death at every second.

They deserve this, she thinks. Just one moment of peace.

_Be alright_, she tells herself.

Maka knows the movie has ended when she feels Soul’s arm withdraw from where it was around her shoulders. With the warmth gone, she feels herself wake from her daze. Looking around the room, she knows they’re all drowsy – ready to fall asleep at any moment.

Kid’s quiet voice interrupts the silence. 

“It’s past midnight. I’d feel better if you all stay the night here – we’ll be heading to the same place tomorrow anyways. If you’d like to?”

They’re all too tired to not accept.

They bid each other good night; making their way towards their separate rooms. Having stayed over Kid’s place enough (countless of tiring missions leading them exhausted together) to know where to go – even having their own change of clothes already stored away in their designated wardrobes.

Soul and herself linger behind the rest, shuffling their heavy feet towards their rooms only opposite of each other’s. By the time they make it to their rooms, the rest have already retired into theirs’.  
Before Maka could bid him, goodnight and let herself into her room, Soul gently stops her, hands around her wrist. He gently guides her into his room.

“I know you’re tired – so am I,” he whispers. “But can we talk?”

She has a weird feeling about this.

It’s not unusual for them to have talks, especially late into the night but this particular request is throwing her off kilter a little bit. She’s hesitant to answer, but they’re already sitting at the edge of his bed.

She nods.

Maka feels nervous; the anxiety she managed to tamp down for the day slowly making its way back, but she steels herself. It’s nothing to worry about, right? Just the usual talk between the two of them. She chances a glance at her partner, he looks just about as nervous as she feels. She can see his fists clenched at his sides, a nervous tick of his she’s always noticed. 

Hesitantly, she prods at him first. 

“Hey, is… is everything alright?”

He visibly sags at that, heaving a heavy trembling sigh. He looks up, his eyes meeting hers’.

“You know you can trust me, right?” he asks.

Maka’s taken aback at that, nervousness forgotten for a second. What a strange question to ask – the two of them know the answer without a second thought. After coming back to her senses, a little bit, Maka looks at him in question, eyebrows quirking. 

“Of course?” It sounds like a question because it honestly is; she’s more confused than anything at this point. “That shouldn’t even be a question.”

Death, she feels like she’s about to choke; the tension is so thick in the air she could physically feel it bearing down on her. Soul’s taking a while to reply back – this just makes the spark of panic in her flame up even more.

Maka opens her mouth, about to prod him once again – she didn’t know exactly what to say but _anything_ will do. Anything to break this unbearable silence.

Soul’s nervous, but his eyes refuse to leave hers – and by God does she want to break this contact. Her fight or flight response is firing up; she feels herself ready to snap at any moment – her mind unable to not perceive this as a threat. 

_ But a threat to **what**, exactly?_

Finally, Soul speaks once more.

“Is there…” he trails off nervously. “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little… Weird lately- “

Maka feels her heart drop down into the pits of hell.

“Is there something going on? Are you alright?”

Oh fuck.

It feels as if someone’s just pushed her over an edge; leaving her plummeting down into the ground – but the earth seems to be getting farther and farther away. She’s falling falling falling fallinfalling-  
The spark of panic now a full-on raging fire in her soul; the anxiety insistently knocking on the back of her mind barging in with hot vengeance. At once, her body feels everything and nothing at all, her extremities ice cold and buzzing. Her ears are ringing, it feels like her head could explode.

The silence is deafening.

She barely registers Souls eyes widen in concern, noticing her panic as he immediately makes his way to her, placing shaking hands in hers, squeezing tightly. She wants to push him away but she wants him to stay too. Everything is too much.

“Hey, hey” his voice is trembling. “Hey, breathe, Maka.”

-

Fuck he’s freaking out so much right now, but he has to calm down because his meister is freaking out even more than he is. He has to be calm for her; as much as his insides feel like it’s getting shredded apart.

She’s losing it in front of him – barely holding on, and it fucking kills him. His plans to talk to her and bring out the truth from her tonight is immediately scrapped the moment he saw her composure snap at the threads.

His priorities lie in one thing and one thing only; her.

He’s been trying to calm her down from her panic for the past few minutes, though, it feels like it’s been hours.

He’s desperate to calm her down but he doesn’t know what to do. They’ve dealt with each other’s breakdowns and panic attacks before but this one in particular feels different; he doesn’t know where to put his finger on it and it leaves him confused, not knowing what to do or what to say.

If there’s one thing he knows what to do is to get her to fucking breathe.

“Maka,” he pleads, the tremble in his voice barely concealed. “Can you listen to me? I just need you to breathe, okay.”

He thinks he sees her nod, just a tiny bit.

Her eyes are glazed over, focusing and un-focusing. Her hands clammy in his, trembling like there’s something physically shaking her; violent and not ceasing. She barely responds to him but he’ll take what he can get.

“Okay, good. Just take deep breaths, alright? Let’s calm down – take however long you need.”

Her breathing improves a little bit.

“Can you look at me?”

Her eyes, previously staring wide at the sheets slowly make their way up to meet his. Her pupils are dilated, he can see unshed tears shining in the corner of her eyes.

Her breathing’s getting better.

He squeezes her hands in his. She squeezes back.

She’s no longer hyperventilating and her body less tense but still shaking from the aftermath of her panic. He knows it’s gonna take a while to shake that off completely. At least she’s responding again.

“Hey,” he starts.

He can see her take a deep breath, exhaling her “Hey,” in reply.

“I’m sorry about that,” she apologizes.

He squeezes her hands again, shaking his head.

“No, no don’t apologise for that,” he soothes. “I’m sorry for bringing this up on you suddenly – Listen, if you’re really uncomfortable to talk about it now, you don’t have to, okay? I’m just worried about you and I wanted to let you know that I’m here.”

She smiles softly at him; it’s genuine but he can see that it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Just a little bit off.

“I know, Soul. And I love you for that, I really do, but I’m fine.” Her hold tightens briefly. “I really am, alright? I’ve just been in my head a lot lately – bad memories are popping up again, I’ve been having nightmares.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’d help.”

“I know, but I didn’t think it was affecting me that much. I guess I just didn’t realise it was adding up on top of all the stress.”

He bites his lips. He wants to say more but it’s obvious she’s extremely uncomfortable – which he’s a bit puzzled about; it’s not like this is the first time they’ve talked about their stress and feelings. Something is up here and she’s obviously not telling him.

He wants to push but he wouldn’t.

Not if it’ll push her over the edge again.

Slowly.

He nods slowly, accepting her excuse for now; inside, he’s screaming at himself to keep prodding – this isn’t right! Something is obviously wrong! But he _can’t_. Not now.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Just… talk to me if there’s anything eating you up, alright?”

“Of course.”

It doesn’t sound quite true.

She sighs, she looks exhausted – they both are. 

“I’m tired, Soul. I should head to my room and sleep – we have an early meeting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, alright.”

He doesn’t let go of her hands; he’s afraid to let go. Afraid that once she slips out from his sights she’ll fall back into her shell – or do something bad.

She notices his hesitance and pulls him in for a hug. His partner tightens her hold on him and let’s go, drawing back from the embrace.

“I’ll go now, okay?”

“Aite – please wake me up in the morning.” He jokes.

She rolls her eyes at him.

“God, you _child_,” she bemoans. “I’ll sic Patty on you.”

“Death, no. I’d rather you bury me six feet under, nerd.”

They share a short laugh at that.

She smiles at him once more before she leaves the room.

“Night, Soul.”

“Night.”

His heart feels uneasy.

-

It takes her almost entirely her remaining energy to not slam the door to her room behind her, opting to quietly close it instead, as to not wake the others. The moment she hears the last clicks of the door closing, she falls.

The crushing weight of the situation comes bearing violently down on her, and her panic comes back with a vengeance.

_He knows._

_They’re starting to notice – no nononononono-_

_You’re being **weak**._

_They’re starting to notice; you’re not okay you’re not okay, you’re making them worry for **nothing**._

_What a fucking burden._

Her heart feels like it’s trying to break free from her body. Her throat clogged up; her breathing stopped. She’s wheezing into the floor and it feels like she’s dying. Her vision is swimming, the world spiralling around her. Death, she wants to puke, she wants to puke, she wants to puke.

Her body feels out of control, she gags. But nothing happens – her throat won’t open up. She’s not breathing she can’t breathe and it **hurts**. She wants to scream but nothing is happening, she wants to scream but she doesn’t want the others to know; don’t let them know – not more than they already suspect.

She plunges her teeth down into her lower lip, trying to silence herself but her muffled heaving sound like nails on a chalkboard in her ears, like loud bombs going off in the dead silence of the room. She feels tears forming in her eyes, burning and hot and uncomfortable.

_God, how fucking pathetic. Crying because of nothing, look at you, you can’t do anything right. All you had to do was to act alright and you couldn’t even do that properly._  
The taste of iron coats her mouth, her blood from her bitten lip dripping onto the floor. 

_They know they know they know you need to be better, act better, you made Soul worry, you made him scared, you burdened him again._  
The pain from the bite grounds her a little bit; she feels relief from each blood drip down her chin. 

Maka’s not thinking when she pushes the sleeves of her sweater up before digging her nails into her arms, piercing skin. Her vision flashes, the pain shocks a gasp out of her.  
Finally, her lungs take in oxygen.

It _hurts_, but she’s feeling better.

So, this is a good thing, right?

She digs harder. She draws blood.

She bites her sweater, muffling her pained noises – not wanting to make any noticeable sounds, not wanting to let her friends know.

Her vision slowly stops to swim, but still unfocused. 

She takes a deep breath; it feels euphoric. 

The pain is helping.

Her head feels like tv static; she can hear it ringing and buzzing in her ears. She’s barely aware when she stumbles her way towards the en suite bathroom of her bedroom, nails still digging into her skin.  
She stands in front of the mirror, staring at herself. Her eyes are wild and unfocused. Her bottom lip is bleeding, the blood smearing around her mouth, staining her teeth. Her eyes drag down from her face to her bleeding arms. Hesitantly, she lets the vice grip on her forearms go, and she can see the red crescent shaped wounds left on her skin. Some bleeding more than others.

Weakly, she reaches towards the sink, turning the faucet on to run her arms under the water. The wounds sting under the cool water, washing the blood off her skin, swirling down the drain.

She catches sight of her fingers; noticing the small pieces of her own flesh and skin caked underneath her nails.

She gags.

Heaving dryly into the sink, she feels her head swim again and her knees buckling underneath her. Bracing herself, she continues to heave, and for a long minute nothing happens; just painful dry heaving. She feels like her insides are ripped and shredded apart – every painful heave making her head ache even more.

Finally, she feels that night’s dinner violently come up her throat, burning their way up and into the sink.

_Death, it hurts._

She continues to empty her stomach, until finally she can do no more.

The taste of bile in her mouth makes her gag some more and she’s tempted to heave more. She stops herself, washing her mouth under the running water.

She’s exhausted, her body heaving and her lungs desperately demanding more air. She needs to physically brace herself against the bathroom sink lest she wants to fall into a sad heap onto the floor.  
She looks at herself in the mirror again.

She looks like shit.

How gross.

They’re right about you.

Gross and useless.

She feels the urge to burn off that gross layer, to scrub it all off. Hastily, she turns towards the bathtub, turning the faucet and showerhead on to fill the tub with hot scalding water. Preparing the bath calms her down a bit, but the buzzing is still clawing inside of her; she still feels a heavy outer layer shroud her in darkness. She hovers her hand under the running water, testing its temperature. 

It burns at her skin; tingling and seeping deep.

It’s hot enough she can see light steam escape.

When the tub is filled almost up to its brim, she quickly undresses. Her body immediately feels better at the sting of the hot water as she lowers herself down into the tub.  
Finally submerged, her mind quiets down a notch; leaving a less violent pounding and buzzing in her head. Her skin stings almost too much; but she likes it.

It feels like she’s shedding her old skin, like she’s burning off the worse part of her. The new wounds on her forearms hurt the most but she doesn’t care.

Maka doesn’t want to leave this bath of hot water.

She should keep this brisk and get to sleep immediately, Maka thinks. But she doesn’t want to; she doesn’t think she can at this point. She feels wide, wide awake but half asleep.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she can feel the water turning cold. 

She doesn’t leave.

She doesn’t sleep.

She doesn’t think she can.

_I have to be better; I have to try harder. They’re suspecting something is wrong – I need to try harder to act like I’m alright._

She scrubs at her skin.

_Don’t let them down._

Her skin feels numb.

She feels numb.

_Don’t let them down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop,,,,


	7. responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in all aspects including physical,
> 
> she comes last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter was heavy, this one not as bad.
> 
> Sorry for taking a while to update! Rest assured I'm still writing more. 
> 
> Hope everyone stays safe during this pandemic! <3

By the time she comes to, she can hear the birds chirping from outside the window. Warm sunlight filtering through the cracks between the blinds. She’s still in the bathtub. She feels sore all over – the water is cold now. It’s uncomfortable. 

Sluggishly moving her hands out of the water, she feels oddly light. Her fingers and skin are all pruned and wrinkly from the water. She blinks a couple of times, trying to get her bearings and inhales a long breath. 

_ I have to get out and get ready for the day _, she convinces herself. Even though she _really_ doesn’t want to. 

With a deep breath, Maka quickly drains the tub and steps out from the water. She goes through the motions quickly, it’s easy enough.

Clean, dry, dress, fix hair, go through the day, (attempt to) sleep. Rinse and repeat.

She feels calmer than she was the night before, but it feels oddly empty. Her head is eerily silent. Maka’s not sure how to feel about it.

Standing in front of the open wardrobe, she contemplates her outfit for the day. Her usual maybe? But without her coat.

But the thought of having her arms, legs and skin revealed sends a shiver down her spine. Yeah, no that’s not an option today. She wants to cover up today, she feels exposed from the inside out – her skin feels raw. _She_ feels raw. Quickly dressing herself in a simple long-sleeved dress shirt, black knee length skirt and opaque black stockings, Maka deems the outfit relatively good for the job. She would bury herself in a loose hoodie if she could – but that would draw too much attention, her friends would just ask questions. Asking if she’s okay.

And today she **needs** to be okay.

She wants so desperately to lie down and bury herself in a pile of heavy blankets – to block out everything in the world and just exist for a while. She can’t though. Maka has things to do, responsibilities to fulfil, a reputation to uphold.

She pushes down her feelings once again. Her duty comes first.

Catching a glance at her reflection in the mirror, Maka promptly made her way to the vanity and mirror in the room. Frankly, she looks like shit. She looks in the mirror to properly assess her face; dark circles, heavy bags and red splotches under and around her eyes. Her lips chapped and crusted with dried blood. 

She sighs. Yeah, she needs to cover all of that up.

Opening the drawers in the vanity, Maka looks around for makeup she knows Liz keeps stored for her. 

_”Liz, you really don’t need to do this. It’s not like I use makeup very often – let alone in your house. I’m just gonna waste it,” Maka complains. _

_”It’s fine, Maka. Who knows, maybe you might need some one day!” _

_“I have some at home already! You’re wasting money on me,” she sighs. “Couldn’t I just use some of yours if this is just supposed to be stock for when I MIGHT need makeup at your place anyways?”_

_“It’s worth it! Plus, Kid insists you use his card to buy something for yourself since you’ve been working non-stop to help him out.”_

_“We get paid by the DWMA anyways! And he’s my friend, so I don’t-”_

_“You’re basically his personal assistant – he just wants to repay you in some way.”_

_Maka opens her mouth to retort but sighs instead, she wouldn’t be able to change Liz’s mind when the taller girl insists on something. “Fine.”_

_“Great! Now, let’s get you your concealer and foundation – you use this brand, yeah? You remember your shades?”_

_“Yeah I do. Let’s get this over with.”_

Maka chuckles at the memory; she’s never been so glad that she let Liz buy extra makeup for her to keep in Kid’s house. 

Concealer, light foundation, lib scrub and lip tint. Something – anything to cover her sunken look and dark circles from her sleepless night.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she deems herself a job well done. She’s not the best at it, but at least she doesn’t look like she just had a terrible night anymore. If all she needed to do was to hide the fact that she has been crying all night without a wink of sleep – she might as well call herself a damn master.

This isn’t the first time she’s done it.

She doesn’t think it’ll be the last.

Maka looks towards the door of the bedroom, hesitantly making her way towards it. She’s hesitant to leave, knowing the moment she steps foot out of the room, she won’t be herself. Not how she really is – she has to be The Maka Albarn. The one everyone else knows. The one people need her to be – the one people expect her to be.

Competent, dependable and _alright_.

\---

The first person she sees as she arrives downstairs is Soul; he’s sitting by the kitchen island, clutching a mug. He gently slides over another mug of what Maka assumes is tea, still warm and fragrant.  
She smiles at him in gratitude before sliding into the seat next to him. Wrapping both hands around the mug, she sighs contently, trying to savour the warmth. They spend a couple seconds in comfortable silence, savouring both their hot beverages. 

Maka can tell that he’s looking at her – has been watching her discreetly as she sips at her tea, he’s squinting a little. She knows he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. She’s trying not to think too much, trying not to show how tense she was – and she’s glad he’s giving her time as they take sips of their tea.

She sighs, he knows her too well.

Maka turns towards him and flicks his nose playfully.

“Something on my face?” she teases.

“You’re wearing makeup.”

Maka rolls her eyes at him and scoffs. “I wear them sometimes.”

“Sure.” He averts his eyes from her a little. “You’re getting better at it.”

“Thanks.”

He meets her eyes again, curious. “Why though?”

Maka shrugs, “Is that a problem?”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

“Cool.”

Maka’s glad the subject’s been dropped. She can tell he’s not entirely convinced that was the extent of it though.

Their silence is broken by a boisterous laugh coming from the stairs. She sees the others descending down the stairs – Patty and Black Star making a ruckus about something she couldn’t be bothered to really pay attention to, Liz and Tsubaki trailing behind them, deep in their own conversation. 

It wasn’t long until the group’s attention falls upon Maka and Soul by the kitchen island. 

“YO, Maka you looking to work a desk job or something? Where’s the usual skirt and vest!!!” Star announces loudly, sounding pretty indignant curiously enough. Maka rolls her eyes and supresses a groan, out of all the people to bring this up, it HAD to be him? The world really isn’t on her side.

She looks at him exasperated; eyebrows quirked up. “That’s not the only thing I wear, dumbass.”

“You don’t usually go for modest, y’know? Thought the schoolgirl look was just your thing, nerd.”

“The hell do you mean by that?”

“You got legs, girl – I ain’t blind. You’re not usually shy about them!”

“Maybe I just want to wear this for a change, it’s not your business,” she huffs indignantly. “At least I change up what I wear every now and then – I’m pretty sure your top hasn’t been washed in days.”  
“Nah, they’re washed all the time cause Tsubaki would throw me out the house if I don’t.”

That incites a bark of laughter from the group.

“She’s the only reason you’re even mildly functional as a human person, hair for brains,” Liz chimes in.

“Remember that week trip I had to take for a mission without him? He thought he could get away with it – I could sniff him out within a meter from our house,” Tsubaki mutters, obviously frustrated at the memory. Everyone sneers at the memory and Soul laughs at that.

“Fucking nasty bro.”

“Nasty for you, piano man.” Star winks at Soul playfully. Soul fake gags at that and throws a crumpled-up napkin at him.

Maka decides that’s about enough of talking about Star’s questionable hygiene habits and nasty laundry, and stands up from her seat, pushing her now empty mug away from her. 

“Alright, as wonderful as it is to bully him –“

“HEY!” he squawks, affronted.

“- we should really be heading for that meeting now. I assume Kid has already went ahead?”

Soul nods in agreement. “Yeah, he told me he needed to go ahead.”

\------

By the time they arrive, Kids and a choice few senior faculties are already seated around a large table just off to the side of the Death Room, barely noticing their arrival amongst their discussion. Maka clears her throat, notifying Kid of their arrival. His eyes meets hers and he smiles, she reciprocates in response.

“Sorry – are we late?”

“Don’t worry, you’re just on time.” He nods towards the others seated by the table. “They’re just early. Please, take a seat and we shall start the meeting.”

The meeting proceeds how Maka expected it would; the usual briefing and discussions on solutions. Maka let’s her mind focus on the task at hand, jotting down important points and quipping in from time to time.

She can feel her body relax just a little; this is something she’s familiar and comfortable with, working and dealing with professional obligations. It distracts her from the numbness and chilling emptiness that she feels.

Maka loses herself in her work, only stopping when she feels Soul nudge her at her shoulder. She turns to him, quirking an eyebrow and he responds in same, mouthing, “Are you okay?”

She scowls at him, thinking. _What is he so goddamn observant for?_

“I’m fine, stop worrying,” she whispers to him. 

She can see the furrow of his brows, and his mouth opening to retort – but whatever it was he needed to say was interrupted by Kid’s voice cutting through the slight chatter around the table.

“Alright – just to recap the meeting here,” he announces while flipping through documents, glancing up to the others after he’s satisfied. “We’ll be sending Maka and Soul only, for recon and conflict resolution. They’ll be working with the east coast team, and it doesn’t seem like the situation is bad enough for a full team mission.”

He’s training his eyes at her and Soul as he says this, before turning his attention to the partners next to her.

“I want Star and Tsubaki to deal with aggressive pre-kishins in San Diego – we were just notified of this before the rest of you arrived.” He pushes the stack of documents away from him, and stands up from his seat at the head of the table. “Leave tomorrow and report back to me – meeting’s dismissed. Oh, and Maka? Stay back please, I need to speak with you privately.”

Affirmatives echoed across the room.

Kid nods, satisfied and walks away from the table; stopping in front of the centrepiece large mirror in the room.

While the others dismiss themselves, Maka stands to make her way towards the Death god. She’s stopped by Soul’s hand on her forearm and her attention turns to her partner.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight. See you at home?” 

She smiles and nods softly. “Cool, see you there.”

Soul smiles back before walking out the room to join the others.

By the time Maka makes her way to Kid, she hears the doors click behind her. She waits patiently by Kid, curious as to what he wants to talk to her about.

She chances a glance at him, he has his back to her – seemingly busy with something by the mirror. Maka can see he’s acting a little agitated, more than usual. His fingers tapping against the side of his thigh, and he’s shifting his feet too much. This makes her frown, feeling a wave of concern wash over her.

She decides to break the silence first. 

“Am I in trouble?” Maka’s trying to keep her voice light and teasing, to hide the concern in her tone.

Kid turns around quickly, hands up to placate her concerns. “No! No, it’s – you’re not in trouble, I promise.”

“You’re acting weird.”

He sighs and walks closer towards her. 

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about, and I really need your input on this – I’m not really sure why I’m nervous about it but…”

Maka places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing him to comfort. “Hey, it’s alright – take your time. I was just worried that I might be in trouble.”

“You? In trouble?” he scoffs. “No – never.”

She smirks at that, amused. “I don’t know, Kiddo…. I was a pretty troublesome person… I wouldn’t follow rules.”

His shoulders loosen and he barks a laugh at that, instantly relaxing. “Only because you wanted to do what’s right – even if that meant breaking the rules.”

“You let me.”

“_You_ let yourself.”

She smacks him playfully upside the head. She gestures towards a couple of chairs placed in front of the mirror, directing them to sit.

“So, what’s up?”

He takes a second to mull over his words before pushing a piece of paper across the small table in between their seats, towards her.

She picks it up, scanning the words on the page. Her eyes widen when she processes the words.

“Kid, this- “

He nods.

“I’m not sure why no one – not even my father has tried to implement this. Even though, in my opinion, it would benefit us, our students and faculty members greatly,” he says firmly. “I think it’s the least we could do. To provide psychological and therapy services.”

She can feel her hands shaking, her breath getting caught in her throat. 

“Therapy.”

“Therapy,” he parrots back.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to try this out real quick! do comment if you'd like to see more (i'll be continuing this regardless but it's always nice to see some encouragement!)


End file.
